


Where Do We Go Now (But Nowhere)?

by barush



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Disability, F/M, HIV/AIDS, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-01 18:19:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barush/pseuds/barush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After making a careless mistake, Remus decides to become a volunteer to redeem his past actions and learn more about himself. However, on his way to the metaphorical salvation, he gets far more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Do We Go Now (But Nowhere)?

**Author's Note:**

> I know it might sound as a cliché, but this isn't a "typical" story about AIDS. I really did try to take the trope and look at it a bit differently.
> 
> Written for rs_games on livejournal. The prompt was: If you are going through hell, keep going. ~ Winston Churchill

“This is James.”

“Hi, James.”

No answer.

“I think he’s having a bad day today. Right, buddy?” Kingsley says and smiles apologetically at you.

“Can he… I mean, does he speak a lot?”

“No, not particularly. But he has really improved since the first time he came here. Especially after Sirius joined us. You’ve met Sirius, right?”

You nod when Kingsley turns to you, still shuddering mentally at the memory of the less than pleasant meeting.

“I think they’d known each other before. I mean, outside The House. Well, whatever it is, James has made enormous progress, we’re all so proud of him.”

You look at James, lying in his bed, head turned away from you and staring into nothing. There’s a small line of drool coming from his open mouth, over his chin, and forming a wet pool on his pillow.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea washes over you and you start to think, for the first time, that coming here might not have been the smartest idea. You’re obviously painfully unprepared.

“Well, Remus, I think you’ve met almost everybody now,” Kingsley cheerily continues, while wiping the drool off James’ face casually. “We’re all so happy to have you in The House; it means so much that you decided to join us. I certainly hope you’ll enjoy your stay here, however long it might end up being.”

Your hands start to shake slightly and your knees go weak. Still, you manage to summon a half-convincing smile to your face, for Kingsley’s sake, and focus on taking deep breaths.

It’s going to be a long and difficult ride.

***

 

“Remus, I know you love it, but please, try to be practical.”

You hate it when your mother’s right. What you hate even more though is when you don’t listen to her advice and then it turns out she’s been right all along. That always drives you up the wall. So instead of feeling an enormous sense of joy, accomplishment and relief while accepting your Masters degree from philosophy, you feel your blood boiling in your veins. You’re absolutely certain that somewhere behind you, in the audience, your mother is thinking “I told you so.” And she’s right, she did.

Five years ago, it seemed like a great idea. The image of a bohemian life, long debates on the origins of the universe, and hours of hot tantric sex. To your defence, you were an eighteen year old virgin at that time, with a closet full of magazines with naked guys on the cover. Over the years, the naked guys had to make space for not-so-naked guys, like Sartre, Nietzsche or Marx, who sure as Hell didn’t induce wet dreams. More like screaming nightmares. And five years later, you were left with a useless piece of paper in your hand and no job prospect to speak of.

“I told you so, Remus.”

“Thanks, mum.”

The most sensible thing to do then was to get spectacularly drunk.

***

 

When Kingsley told you you’d already met most of the people in The House, you thought that there were no surprises left and you could start getting to know your new temporary family. Well, you were wrong. Again.

“Um, Severus?” you ask tentatively, touching the man lightly on the arm.

“That’s Mr. Snape for you, Lupin.”

Apparently, news travel fast in this place. Even though Snape is one of those people of ambiguous age – he could be twenty or fifty, you have no idea – something is telling you that he’s not that much older than you. His long black hair and funeral clothes suggest that he’s anything but a pharmacist, alas, that’s what you’ve been told.

“Okay, Mr. Snape,” you say, trying to sound as sarcastic as possible. Snape’s smirk tells you you’re probably failing miserably. “Minerva told me Susan threw up her morning pills, so she would really appreciate it if you could maybe, possibly, prepare a new batch. If you have the time.” Even through your pathetic stuttering you managed to put particular stress on ‘Minerva’, in hopes that the directress’ name would be enough for Snape not to send you away empty handed.

Thankfully, you were right. The supposed pharmacist throws you an annoyed look, but goes to the enormous cupboard full of various pills all the same and starts to expertly take out one packet after another, without stopping once to check his records. Honestly, you’re a bit amazed. There are about thirty residents in The House and all of them take medication at least three times a day. You’ve done your research before coming to the centre, but it doesn’t stop you from being surprised, and admittedly a bit horrified, at the amount of capsules and tablets each of them dutifully swallows before every meal. And judging by his swift and efficient movements, Snape has everything memorized. You have to, grudgingly, hand it to him, he knows what he’s doing.

You leave with a small cup overflowing with colourful pills of various shapes and sizes and walk back through the long corridor towards Susan’s room, where Minerva is awaiting you.

*

 

Minerva McGonagall, the head of the centre.

“Please, call me Minerva.”

Minerva, your first actual contact from the other side, as you started to call The House in your head.

“So, Remus, what leads you here?”

Curiosity. Fear. Desperation.

“Um.”

“Personal reasons?”

The way Minerva was looking at you after that particular question had you convinced her piercing eyes could see through your flesh, straight to your soul, and uncover all the dark secrets that were hiding there.

Or, perhaps, you should stop reading so many fantasy novels.

“Kind of.”

“Kind of? Honestly, I was hoping for a more eloquent answer. Especially from you, Remus. Your CV says you graduated from philosophy? Voluntary work in this kind of place doesn’t seem like a popular choice for somebody with your education.”

“Well – “

“Well, well, well. You’re lucky we’re low on staff right now. You can start immediately.”

In hindsight, Minerva was probably giving you a last chance to turn around, run and never come back. After a beat, during which you missed your chance to escape this madness, she launched into a lengthy explanation about the centre and what your work there would entail. You hate to admit it, but her monotone voice didn’t do much for your already short attention span and your mind began to wander, mostly to places better left alone.

“I assume you’re aware of the rules, right, Remus?” Minerva’s suddenly sharpening voice tore you from your silent reverie.

“Yes.”

A month ago, the rules had been what attracted you the most about this place. However, things can change a lot during such a short period of time and in that moment, you weren’t as sure anymore about your previous idea of ‘cleansing’ and celibacy.

“No smoking, no alcohol and no personal relations with other volunteers or residents.”

“By personal relations you mean – “

“Exactly what you think.”

Great, you thought. From then on the old cliché about not killing and making people stronger would become your everyday mantra. You needed the lesson though, so you were determined to make the most of your self-imposed walk through Hell.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Minerva continued, ignoring your inner pep talk. “We call it ‘The House’ here. Make whatever you will of it.”

Suddenly, you imagined her pulling out a revolver and congratulating you on becoming a part of The Family. If you were sure of anything in this place, it was that Minerva McGonagall would make a brilliant mob boss.

Unfortunately, nothing she told you during your first meeting could prepare you for the everyday reality of The House and its inhabitants.

*

 

As you hurriedly return to Susan’s room the first thing you notice is that Minerva managed to change her by herself while you were gone. The used diaper is lying forgotten on the floor, along with the clothes that didn’t escape the after-medication trouble.

“Ah, I see you’re back. How did it go with Severus?” Minerva throws you a knowing look, which you would perhaps describe as mischievous, if you didn’t know better.

“Fine.”

You both know that certainly wasn’t the case, but you don’t see any reason to dwell on the fiasco with ‘Mr. Snape’, and Minerva is tactful enough to keep her smirk for herself. The rumours you’ve heard previously seem to be true, Snape is apparently well-known for making it difficult for anyone to like him.

“She’ll probably need another shower so I’ll get Molly to help me. Thanks for the meds, Remus. Go look around if anybody else needs help.”

Glad to be released for the moment, you back out of the room and go straight to the cupboard that will be your living space for an undetermined period of time. It’s so tiny you wouldn’t even dare to call it a room.

There has been enough helping for the day.

***

 

Looking back, getting smashed probably hadn’t been such a great idea after all. All your fellow graduates had taken their diplomas and gone off with their families to fancy lunches and parties, while you had said good bye to your mother and gone home to change. You weren’t desperate enough to go drinking alone in a suit just yet.

In between your self-pity and folly of youth you somehow managed to forget what a lightweight you were and kept knocking back shots until the strange hand resting in your lap didn’t seem all that strange anymore.

He was a bit taller than you, dark hair, well-built and wore a killer smile. His hands were warm on the back of your neck and under your t-shirt, his wallet didn’t seem to suffer in direct proportion with the alcohol you both consumed and in that moment, he was exactly what you needed.

The stall wasn’t particularly spacious, but you managed to drop down to your knees all the same, dizzy with lust and eager to forget. Forget about your stupid choices, ruined career chances and the seeming hopelessness of this stage of your life. The stranger was hot in your mouth, pulsing on your tongue, choking you. And you, you loved every second of it.

It wasn’t long before you were being pulled back up by strong arms, squeezed against the thin plastic wall, with your pants riding somewhere in the middle of your thighs. The pain was unexpected, but welcomed. You revelled in it, meeting the stranger halfway by jutting out your hips and enjoying every moment as if it was your last. For the first time in what felt like years, your mind was absolutely, blissfully blank.

The sound of a zipper being done up and the bathroom door closing with a bang seconds later told you that your adventure for the night was over. You felt pleasantly exhausted and satisfied. Happy, even.

Until you noticed something hot and wet sliding down your naked thighs. Suddenly, the sweat already covering your body turned cold. Well, fuck.

***

 

Getting up early in the morning has never been one of your strongest suits. Your university days were spent mostly by classes in the afternoon, late nights and lounging in bed for hours on end, until it was time to go to class again. Or to go out again, depending on the day of the week.

Initially, you thought the timetable Minerva gave you on your first day was a joke. Or, perhaps, that it was just a suggestion to be taken or left, whichever you please. Well, after missing the breakfast and your morning assignment yesterday, you learned the hard way that the rules of The House are to be kept. All of them. Otherwise one has to face the wrath of Mrs. Directress - never Minerva in those instances – and one does not really need to experience this more than once in one’s life.

When you close your eyes, you can still see Kingsley smirking at you from the safety of his office.

Bleary eyed, you listen to the chatter going on around you, while trying to spread what’s left of the butter on the last piece of bread Molly managed to save for you. You certainly hope punctuality can be learned; otherwise you’re going to starve here.

“Good morning, everyone!” Kingsley’s booming voice fills the room all of a sudden, a cue to stop the gossip and turn to the ever-cheery man. Even at eight in the bloody morning.

“Hopefully you’ve all had a good night’s sleep, as you’ll certainly need it today,” Kingsley continues and you start to pray they won’t put you back into the laundry room. Not only is Filch a right bastard at best, your right arm still hurts from ironing hundreds of sheets and table cloths.

“Molly’s in the kitchen, of course. Mr. Flitwick will be helping you today. Severus, we’re expecting a delivery from the main pharmacy in a few hours, you know what to do about that, right? Argus is doing the laundry, as per usual, joined by Hestia today.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, you settle back into your chair and finish your coffee. Even though you haven’t got to speak with Hestia all that much yet, she seems like a genuinely nice girl. That doesn’t stop you from feeling victorious though, better her than you.

Nonetheless, your excitement doesn’t last much longer.

“Sirius, you’re in charge of showers this morning. Remus will be helping you; I expect you to show him the ropes and go easy on him, we don’t want to scare the newbie off so quickly,” Kingsley laughs heartily and continues to read the tasks for the day.

You, on the other hand, regret eating the little you did, as you feel your stomach doing somersaults.

***

 

It’s not like Sirius is scary, per se. You’re just not sure if his tattoos are really prison tattoos, or if Kingsley was joking. His long black hair looks like it could use a wash, and perhaps a haircut too, and the calluses on his otherwise clean hands suggest that hard work isn’t foreign to him, as do the rippling muscles under his white t-shirt. Over all, he’s pretty handsome. Would be your type even, if he wasn’t, well, so scary.

There’s something about him that you can’t point out, other than his appearance, that makes you feel really uncomfortable for some reason. You’ve always trusted your instincts and right now they’re telling you to stay as far away from this person as possible.

Also, there’s the fact that he apparently thinks you’re a complete moron.

“I told you to wear gloves. Or did you think you’d be just observing from afar while I get my hands dirty? What are you doing here anyways, Lupin?”

Sirius is positively seething and you have no idea if he actually expects an answer or not. The tense silence stretches and stretches to the point where you’re about to blabber out anything that comes to your mind first, just to break it, when all of a sudden James makes a sound, which could be interpreted as ‘Sirius’, if you tried really hard.

“Right here, Jamie,” Sirius whispers, while turning back to the bath slowly filling with warm water. All of his annoyance is gone, as if charmed away, and replaced with tenderness you’d never expect from a man like Sirius.

“I, um. I’ll go get the gloves,” you say quietly, not to disturb the gentle atmosphere that has settled upon the bathroom, and leave.

When you come back, James’ hair is wet already and he’s waiting for Sirius to take the shampoo and start to massage his scalp. It seems as a practiced routine, so you decide to just stand by the door and wait for further instructions from Sirius.

This is your first chance to get a really good look at James. He doesn’t seem too old. In fact, you’d say he might be about the same age as Sirius. As you. His dark hair is cut short, for convenience’s sake probably, and there’s a faint trace of stubble on his chin. You wonder if Sirius is going to shave him or if he’ll leave that honour to you. As your gaze slides further down James’ body, you notice the by now familiar stick thin arms and legs that so many residents in The House have. It’s the result of the meds, as Minerva told you. Nothing can really be done about it.

“We don’t judge anybody in The House, Remus. We don’t ask them where they contracted the virus. Was it drug use? Unprotected one-night stand? Nobody cares. They’re all human beings that need our help, so they will get it in equal measure.”

Minerva’s words echo in your head. You get where she’s coming from, you really do, but looking at James, you can’t help but wonder how it happened. He’s so damn young.

“Remus,” Sirius’ stern voice penetrates the fog surrounding your mind right now. “Take this towel and start to dry him off, I’ll go get the shaving kit.”

Taking a deep breath, you slowly touch James’ legs with the towel. It’s probably ridiculous, but you have no idea how he might react to somebody he doesn’t know touching him. One part of you thinks that Sirius would tell you if there could be any problems, however, the more pessimistic part of your brain tells you that Sirius probably wouldn’t. When nothing happens, you start drying James off in earnest and after a while you realize it really isn’t so bad. You’re already over the shock of seeing another person naked and so vulnerable, so this part of the task comes more easily. When Sirius returns with the shaving kit, James is dry and smiling his crooked smile.

“Wow, Remus, you surprise me,” Sirius utters and you have no idea if it’s sarcasm or not.

As it turns out, you’re not allowed to shave James, but Sirius tells you that if you watch closely and are careful enough, you may shave Frank Longbottom, who’s next in line for his morning shower.

“Nothing against you, Remus, but James doesn’t allow anyone else but me to touch his face with a razor,” Sirius chuckles to himself and it seems as if he’s remembering times long gone and laughing at some inside joke. That’s when you suddenly remember Kingsley’s words.

“Kingsley said you knew each other outside The House.”

Sirius visibly tenses but, thankfully, his hand remains steady.

“Kingsley says a lot of things,” he murmurs and continues to shave James quietly. When you’re sure he’s not going to say anything more, surprisingly, Sirius continues: “We grew up together, James and I. Went to the same kindergarten, same schools. He’s like my brother.”

Sirius never once looks at you, his gaze still fixated on James as he’s shaving his face, however, you can see the soft smile that’s playing on his lips.

To say you’re shocked would be an understatement. It’s hard enough doing a personal assistant to complete strangers, showering them, changing their diapers and feeding them, so you can’t imagine doing all this for your best friend, while watching him deteriorate and waiting for the worst. Suddenly, you have a new admiration for Sirius. However, with this admiration comes an even stronger need to know the whole back-story; what happened in the lives of those two childhood friends to land them both here, in The House where everyone is equal, but not really. Something tells you though that this place isn’t too keen on gossip.

In your shock you completely forgot to reply to Sirius, however, it seems like he didn’t even expect a reaction. Wordlessly, he beckons you to help him put James back to his wheelchair and together you return to James’ room, where you change him into fresh clothes and call on Arthur, another seasoned volunteer, to take him down for breakfast.

You’re already on your way to Frank’s room, when Sirius’ hand on your shoulder stops you in your tracks. Slowly, you turn back to him, not knowing what to expect.

“Look, Remus, I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit hard on you those past few days. I don’t know you and, as Minerva says, we don’t judge anybody in here. It’s just that I’m always mistrustful of the new volunteers, when I know they don’t have a degree in the field. It’s nothing personal.”

“So, what, you think I’m just killing time here?” You expected anything but this. How dare this guy question your motives? You know for a fact that only a handful of the permanent volunteers actually have any kind of a medical degree and Sirius isn’t among them. Maybe you should have trusted your initial instincts; Sirius doesn’t seem all that pleasant anymore.

“No. Well, I don’t know. I don’t know anything about your motives and when I asked Minerva, she said you studied philosophy, which doesn’t really have much in common with what we’re doing here. I’ve been in this house for over three years and the people are like my family. I don’t want any uneducated fool doing them harm.”

“It’s none of your fucking business, Sirius.”

While you stomp away to Frank’s room, which has been pointed out to you on your first day, thank goodness, you wonder if Sirius’ words made you so angry because he’s actually right, or because he made you remember your true motives.

The rest of the morning is spent in tense silence and you actually feel sorry for the people you’re assisting, as they are bound to pick up on the atmosphere.

***

 

It had been three days and nothing happened.

Extensive Internet research told you that yes, there was a possibility of contracting all sorts of unpleasant things via unprotected anal sex. Yes, even HIV. The chance wasn’t too high, but it was definitely there. The Internet also told you that had it been the case, you should have a fever and general flu-like symptoms. Or, there didn’t have to be any symptoms at all. So that was back to square one.

You had no idea how it could have happened to you, of all people. Sure, your fantasy life was pretty badass and kinky, however, that rarely translated to reality, if ever. You’d had two long-term boyfriends, first blow job at the age of nineteen and never a one-night stand.

Well, until that night of your graduation.

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

When you thought back on it, the tiny stinking bathroom stall, a drunken stranger with his bare cock up your ass and you moaning like the slut you usually weren’t, it made you want to actually cry. That wasn’t you. You almost wished you hadn’t remembered any of it. However, in that case you wouldn’t have known about the danger you’d put yourself through and couldn’t take the appropriate further steps.

 _That_ was you.

Gathering all the facts, doing research and going from there. Sadly, you couldn’t turn back the time and undo your past missteps, so the next best thing was to take your phone and make an appointment at the clinic you’d found.

It took you three attempts to dial the number properly; your hands were shaking so badly.

***

 

It has been a whole week and things are starting to settle. You’re getting used to the new regime, waking up early, working during the day and falling into bed utterly exhausted at 10pm.

Everyone in The House has learned your name, made sure to introduce themselves and tell you how welcome you are. It actually starts to feel as a family and you’re just now beginning to realize what Minerva was talking about the first day of your stay.

Gradually, as your everyday evening course with Minerva progresses, you’re allowed to do more and more things than just observe and pitch in here and there. The work is nothing like you expected, but it has quickly become apparent that even though you’ve never had any previous inclinations to work with disabled people, it’s something you could imagine yourself doing full time one day.

What really surprised you in the beginning was that the place isn’t as sterile as you imagined. Everything, from meals to showers, is shared between the volunteers and residents and there’s no fear present. It makes you feel secure and comfortable. You don’t even have any idea who’s ‘positive’ or not yet although you’re pretty sure that’ll change once your rounds with Snape start. That’s one of the less pleasant prospects to look forward to.

It’s Sunday. That means you get to get up a bit later, as there’s no actual work going on during the day. The afternoon and evening are free for family members’ visits and your only task is to make those, who can’t do it themselves, presentable.

Kingsley told you to wait for him in the main hall after lunch. Apparently, you’re going to talk about your experience so far and he’s going to answer any questions you might have. Unfortunately, you’re sure that the things you’re the most curious about wouldn’t be met with a positive response from Kingsley; he doesn’t really seem like someone who’d like to gossip.

As you stand there waiting, various people start coming in. Some of them greet you, some don’t even notice you, but all of them know exactly where to go. The majority is middle aged, respectable looking and quite ordinary. Just as you see Kingsley approaching from the other side of the hall, a young red-haired woman with a little boy enters the building. There’s something about her that immediately captures your full attention, an air of confidence and respectability. She’s dressed in jeans and a nice shirt, a typical working mum outfit, you think, with her hair in a loose ponytail. The boy, her son probably, looks around four or five and timid, as he’s hiding behind the woman’s legs. She gives you a quick smile of acknowledgement and looks around.

“Lily!” Kingsley beams, having made it across the long hall and bowing down slightly to hug the red-haired woman.

“Kingsley, hi,” she says. “How are you?”

“Good, good. You? And what about you, little buddy?” Kingsley addresses the boy and crouches down to his level.

It all looks very friendly and familiar, as if those two were regular guests here. They probably are, you think. Most of the residents in The House have been there for years and Kingsley, Minerva, and a couple others will soon celebrate their 20th anniversary of volunteering in the centre, so it makes sense they’d become friends with some of the family members.

Kingsley accompanies them down the hall, to the residents’ room, while still chattering aimlessly. It takes another five or so minutes, which seems like an eternity to you, before he finally returns, ready to pay you his full attention.

“Sorry for the wait, Remus. I wasn’t here last Sunday so I had to catch up a bit with Lily and Harry.”

You’re not sure you really want to know, but you ask anyways: “Who are they?”

Kingsley’s smile fades a bit as he says, “James’ wife and son.”

“James Potter’s?”

Kingsley nods. “It’s been really tough for them those past few years. Lily’s doing wonderfully; I have nothing but respect and admiration for her. Harry, on the other hand, is still too young to understand what’s going on properly, but he sure does miss his dad. It breaks my heart to see them here every week, but James always seems to be in such better spirits after they leave.”

You thought that after finding out about Sirius’ connection to James nothing else would come as a bigger surprise, however, once again, you’ve been proven wrong. To say that this new piece of information is unexpected doesn’t really cut it. As you follow Kingsley to his office, you can’t help but become furious with James. James, who has a beautiful wife and son, but will never be the husband and father they need so much again. James, who will never play soccer with Harry, help him prepare to school, or go to the theatre with Lily. James, who can’t even sit up on his own, let alone feed himself or use the bathroom. How could he let this happen? How could he leave his family like this?

“We don’t judge anybody in here,” a voice that sounds suspiciously like Minerva McGonagall echoes in your head.

And suddenly, suddenly you’re back in that tiny stinky bathroom stall with a stranger’s cock up your arse and the fury you feel towards James evaporates instantly. Who are you to judge anyone? Minerva’s right.

Kingsley makes a small gesture for you to sit down and your focus shifts back to the present and the meeting you’re in.

Three hours later, you’re leaving the office full of new information and excitement. Your chat with Kingsley has been rather productive and fun. You’re starting to genuinely like the man, unlike some others you’ve had the misfortune to meet in the past week.

Speaking of which.

“Snape, I’m warning you.”

You’re pretty sure it was Sirius’ voice coming out one of the empty rooms you’ve just passed on your way back to your own room. Well, if you thought the relationship between you two was strained, than it must be pure hatred between him and Snape, judging by the tone of Sirius’ voice.

Not wanting to get into any further arguments with those two, you silently proceed down the hall and mind your own business. There’s always time for eavesdropping, however, you also know where to leave well enough alone. Whatever it is between those two, you really have no business knowing.

***

 

The next morning has you helping Arthur in the ‘recovery session’, which, in theory, should be doing memory and attention exercises, but, in reality, boils down to you trying to get James to say something. Arthur, being the more experienced one, assigned you James today, as he’s the only one who can’t really participate in the exercises, and he himself took the rest to do some actual work with them.

You don’t mind at all, as James has quickly become one of your favourite people in The House. He’s good-natured, easy-going and you can’t help but think that you’d probably be really good friends, had you met in a different place and in different circumstances. A quick chat with Arthur revealed that James was accepted to the centre some four years ago, after his condition rapidly deteriorated and his wife couldn’t take care of him and their newborn by herself anymore. As far as you know, little Harry is fine, so that means he was either very lucky, or, the more likely option, James got infected only after Lily got pregnant.

You look at him, sitting in his wheelchair, currently trying to pronounce your name, and suddenly it gets very hard to breathe over that lump in your throat. He’s probably just another good man who made a stupid mistake and unintentionally ruined his life and his family.

And in that moment, with James smiling at you and clapping after accomplishing his mission, you fully realize what Minerva meant. It really doesn’t matter what happened, or how, the important thing is to help those people as much as possible so that they can bring at least a little a bit of joy to those who need it the most.

“Harry,” you say. “Try to say ‘Harry’, Jamie.”

*

 

After the session is over and everyone has been taken down to lunch, Arthur congratulates you on a job well done.

“You’re a natural, Remus. Who’d have thought?” he chuckles and makes his way to the dinning room.

You quickly finish up clearing the room and turn towards the doors to leave, alas, someone is blocking the way.

Sirius.

“I’ve seen you with James today. You’ve got a lot of patience, Remus.” One corner of his mouth turns up slightly. “Maybe, maybe I was wrong to judge you so quickly. You really are a natural at this.”

He looks a bit sheepish and won’t meet your eye. Still, you take it for what it clearly is – a peace offering – and allow your own mouth to turn into a small smile.

“Thanks, Sirius.”

After a moment of awkward silence, Sirius finally looks you in the face and it’s as if you buried the war axe in that instant. Together you make your way down to lunch, chatting non-stop.

***

 

Another few weeks come and go, during which you’ve gained new useful skills and learned lots of things you had no idea about before. Minerva tells you that at first she didn’t believe in your motivation or capabilities, however, you’ve turned out to be one of the best temporary volunteers The House has seen in a while.

All this has been made thousand times easier because of your flourishing friendship with Sirius. That’s right, flourishing. Since you’ve gotten over your initial misunderstandings and Sirius’ antagonism towards new people, you’ve become quite the pals. So much so that you’ve joined in on Sirius’ weekly prank fests, usually playing an innocent bystander, but in fact, being the mastermind behind the whole thing most of the time. No one has figured you out yet, although you have a sneaking suspicion that Snape might be onto something. Your astonishment when he turned up with his new bleached hairdo might not have been that convincing, having anxiously waited for it to happen for several days. Other than that though, Sirius has shown you that living in The House doesn’t have to mean only work and no fun.

Also, during one of your long night shifts, you were informed that those tattoos Sirius sports so proudly really are prison tattoos. He wouldn’t share much with you about that time of his life, not only because the past and pain are still pretty much alive, but also because, apparently, there was a betrayal of a dear friend involved. You both knew there was a suspiciously vacant James-shaped spot in that story, however, none of you dared mention it, afraid to upset the careful established balance between retelling old stories and reliving the past.

What really didn’t come as a surprise to you was that Minerva basically saved his life, after she took Sirius in as a volunteer after he was let out of the prison. He had no family to speak of and nowhere to go, so she decided to take a chance on him, despite his criminal past. Almost four years later and none of them have regretted the decision once.

Seeing as Sirius has told you all that during the past few weeks, it was your turn to join the story telling club now, during another late night shift.

“So, you, like, went there alone? You didn’t tell anybody?”

“You’re the first person who knows. Well, apart from the staff at the clinic.”

“Wow, Remus, that’s just fucked up. Nobody should go through that alone.”

If you’re stupid enough to let some stranger fuck you without a condom, you more than deserve to go get the HIV test done alone, you think. However, you know Sirius well enough by now to be sure he probably wouldn’t really appreciate that line of thought, so you keep silent.

“And?” Sirius asks when it’s clear you’re not going to elaborate.

“And what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Remus. You know what. What’s the result?”

You want to tell him that’s personal. That he has no right to ask. And you would, to anybody else. But this is Sirius, your new confidant and perhaps a friend too. Sirius, whose best friend most likely made the stupid mistake you did, but wasn’t so lucky and is now paying for it. It feels like you have no right to deny him the answer, really.

“Well, why do you think I’m here?”

That doesn’t mean, though, that you can’t stall for a bit. For some reason, you really want to see Sirius’ reaction to the possibility of you being positive. See if he cares at all. Suddenly, it’s really important to know how he feels about this situation. About you.

“Either because you want to see what might have been, or what you have to look forward to. Both options are a bit morbid, I might add.” The last statement is meant as a joke, but you can trace a faint tremor in Sirius’ voice.

“I probably wouldn’t put like that, but yeah, I was very lucky.”

You think you’ve seen a tiny bit of relief in his face, but that might have been just your imagination. And anyway, you don’t even know why you care so much all of a sudden. It’s not like you need sympathy or condemnation for your past actions.

“Glad to hear that, Remus. After almost four years in here, I know how little it takes before your life is completely upside down,” Sirius sighs.

The atmosphere around you grows really tense and you get the feeling this is the moment you have been waiting for since first meeting James. Sirius is looking at the floor, but his posture tells you he’s probably preparing himself to say something difficult, so you wait for him to speak.

“I bet you’re thinking about James, right? I’m surprised you haven’t asked before. Well, it’s a long story and it still hurts a lot, so I’ll try to make it shorter,” he says with a humourless chuckle, still not meeting your eyes. “When it happened, when I was arrested, James lost his two best mates all at once. Sure, there was Lily, but I’ve been told he didn’t really let her help him with the pain. Instead, he chose different ways to cope with the pain. You of all people can probably imagine how it is.”

“Yeah,” you no more than breathe out.

“Sorry, Remus. I didn’t mean –“

“It’s okay, you’re right. Go on.”

“Well, you pretty much know the rest. The doctors say the type of the virus was unusually aggressive, it was undiagnosed for a while, his defences were low. Doesn’t really matter, does it? I haven’t been there, so I can’t tell you much anyway.”

“Is Lily…?” You can’t make yourself finish the question, but suddenly need to know.

“Luckily, no. At that point they were separated. However, after James got sick, she wanted to take care of him, despite everything, but it wasn’t possible with Harry being still so little.”

It has been years, but you can clearly see how much it all still affects Sirius. The pain manifests in his face, in his voice, and you want to comfort him somehow. Tell him everything’s going to be alright.

“And, imagine my surprise,” Sirius continues, “when I first started working here and saw James in one of the rooms. I couldn’t believe it at first. It wasn’t the man I knew. It wasn’t the boy I grew up with. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye. He couldn’t.”

“You didn’t know?” You ask incredulously.

“No idea. James and Lily cut me loose after I was found guilty. I don’t fault them for it, really, at that time nobody believed me and the ruling of the court of justice was pretty convincing. It took a very long time to wrap my head around all that. When I left prison, the first thing I wanted to do was to find James and explain everything. Apologize. We didn’t even get to say good bye properly, as it all happened so quickly and I was arrested rather unexpectedly. I’ve spoken to Lily since then and I think she understands what really happened. James, on the other hand. Well, I only hope that he knows who I am now, that he can somehow connect me to the boy from his past and sees me as a friend once more.”

You’ve never seen Sirius so vulnerable before. Granted, you’ve known him only for a better part of two months, but in that time you’ve gotten rather close, shared laughs and even a couple rather emotional moments, when your work got overwhelming. He’s been there for you the whole time. Somehow, it takes you by surprise, seeing the man you’ve so far known as the bravest human being so fragile and sad. It’s almost scary. If Sirius can’t be full of hope and positive energy, then who’s left?

The urge to comfort somebody has never been this strong. You want to be there for him, hug him, tell him it’s all going to be alright, even though you know it’s not true. You want to make him smile again. Make him hope.

Suddenly, your eyes lock with his and you both know it’s going to happen. The kiss is tender at first, explorative, without tongues or much passion. That changes though and after a minute you’re so wrapped up in each other that neither of you hears the knock on the door.

Nonetheless, you both hear Minerva’s gasp as she enters the room, loud and clear.

***

 

It’s Sunday again. Most of the residents are with their families, the rest of the volunteers have time off, and you, you’re sitting in Minerva’s office.

“Shall I go pack my stuff?”

Two months ago, it was unimaginable that you’d ever say this, but you really don’t want to leave. Not now, not after everything that’s happened, not when you finally feel like you really belong.

“You knew the rules, Remus. You knew them and broke them. However, I really value the time and effort you have put into this institution so far and, except this little slip-up, I have been more than satisfied with your work. Therefore, I’m willing to give you another chance.”

Shocked, you have no idea what to say. You have been preparing a pleading speech for the whole time, so Minerva’s words took you by surprise.

As if reading your mind, Minerva says: “I’m not as heartless and cruel as you might think.”

“I don’t,” you say. And then, “What about Sirius?”

“I told him the same thing as to you.”

Relieved, you leave Minerva’s office and go in search of Sirius.

Going down the hall, you spot an open door out of the corner of your eye, and have to stop and look properly, not knowing if you’re seeing things or not. The latter option seems to be true, as there they are, Lily Potter, visibly shaking with tears, being comforted by none other than Snape. His hands are on her shoulders and they seem very familiar. Maybe even too familiar, your mind supplies. Could this be why Sirius hates Snape so much? Because he’s stealing Lily from James? Honestly, you don’t know on whose side you’d stand, if you had to choose. After all, James is never coming back and little Harry might need a father figure sometime in the future. However, you have different matters to attend to first, so you decide to ask Sirius about it at some later date.

The relief you have been feeling just a minute ago instantly evaporates when you enter Sirius’ room and see him packing his things up.

“Sirius,” you breathe out, incredulous.

“Ah, Remus, there you are. I was wondering when you’d show up here.”

He seems happy. You don’t get it at all.

“But. But I thought Minerva –“

“Yeah, Minerva told me I could stay, but… Well, I think it was the final push I needed. Four years is a long time, you know? I’ve been thinking about doing something else with my life for a while now.”

“But, Sirius. Where will you go? What will you do? You’re… You’re an ex-convict, no one will hire you.”

Your brain is so clouded with shock and disappointment that it forgot to censor your mouth. Last night, you felt like your feelings might be mutual, like there’s a potential for something more between you and Sirius. And once again, you’ve been proven wrong. It hurts more than it probably should.

“Well, Minerva will write me a letter of recommendation, if nothing else,” Sirius says, seemingly completely oblivious to your feelings. “And, I’ve been thinking about going back to school. I have a half a degree in psychology, so maybe I could start again where I left off all those years ago.”

That’s it, you think. He’s decided. In one last desperate attempt to salvage something that has never really started, you say: “What about James?”

“He’ll be in good hands with you here; I’m not worried about him. Plus, I’ll come to visit often; he won’t probably even notice anything.”

You both know that’s not true, but you let Sirius pretend he actually believes it.

“So, that’s it, then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it.”

Turning away, you start to walk towards the door, not wanting Sirius to see the emotions so clearly displayed on your face. However, once again, his hand on your shoulder stops you.

“Remus.”

Slowly, you turn back to him, steeling yourself for the inevitable parting words.

“I was thinking that, maybe, we could give it a shot? I mean, the thing between us. I know that you feel something for me too, I’m sure.” He waits for you to nod before he goes on. “And now, since I don’t work here anymore, we wouldn’t have to worry about Minerva tearing our heads off, you know? So, would you like to see what happens? If we can make it work?”

Astonished, you just manage to nod again, but it seems to be enough for Sirius as he leans in and kisses you.

You have no idea what life in The House will be like without Sirius’ constant presence, but now, you have a promise of something more, and that’s enough.

Two months ago, you were scared, without a purpose in life and in a desperate need of a lesson. Needless to say, the most important lesson you’ve learned is that even though things aren’t looking that great, keep going, there might be something great awaiting you at the end of your journey.

And, kissing Sirius back, you feel like your journey has only just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a song by Nick Cave.


End file.
